And All For What?
by A Nordic Niche
Summary: In a moment of weakness, Norway does exactly what he's always wanted to do... And both he and his brother have to learn to live with it. Rated T for suggestions of incest as well as language. NorIce.
1. Chapter 1

_Hallo again, my dears. I haven't written for a little while, as I am on vacation in a place far from where I actually live. _

_One warning for this story: All is not as it seems._

_Enjoy. _

* * *

There was a crash of glass and a giggle, and at last Norway looked up.

He'd been reading in peace and quiet for a good half hour, and now someone had to go ruin it for him. Denmark had left (well, he'd been kicked out, but he was gone now, that's all that mattered), and Iceland had taken something from the fridge and gone to his room, undoubtedly to yell furiously at both Hungary and Hong Kong about 'staying out of his life' and to 'stop being such damn perverts;' the two had recently discovered this wonderful thing called NorIce and had been determined to annoy Iceland to no end about it. (Norway had actually been the one to show them, but who cares? They knew what it was, right?)

And currently, unless Norway was very much mistaken, it was Iceland who was giggling upstairs. Alright, call it hideously out of character all you want, but fuck it all, honestly, let the kid show _some _emotion other than annoyance from time to time, god dammit.

Of course, out of character or not, Iceland's crazy laughter was beginning to worry Norway ever so slightly. He hadn't been drugged, had he? Or maybe he had cracked after one too many horrible jokes from Hong Kong and Hungary? Or perhaps- Well, Denmark _had _ left his beer here, and Norway hadn't gotten around to throwing it out yet-

"Ice!" Norway called up the stairs; the only response was a slightly slurred giggle and the sound of glass shattering. Oh no, big brother has failed! Iceland is now drunk off his ass! Norway throws his book to the floor and sprints up the stairs, throwing open the door to Iceland's room and opening his mouth to ask if he was alright-

"Noregur!" Arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down and giggling. "I thought you would never get up here," Iceland whispered, his tone almost seductive. "I was waitin' for yah, storibroðir~!"

Norway blushed furiously at this word, frowning slightly at Iceland, whose eyes were flitting in and out of focus; his jacket was gone, and his shirt was half off. "How much did you have, Ice?" Norway asked, looking nervously at the broken bottles lying around the room.

"12!" Iceland replied, grinning childishly. "All gone now!" He leaned forward and kissed his brother on the cheek. "You proud of me for getting rid of it, broðir?" _No, _Norway thought desperately. But Iceland's sparkling violet eyes kept him from saying that.

"Yes, of course, Ice..." _Why didn't you just throw it away? _"Here, I'm going to get rid of that glass before you- mmph!" Iceland took full advantage of the split second that Norway had been looking away, pressing his lips roughly against his brothers'. The older Nordic's eyes flew wide open as he was pushed up against the wall, pinned down not by Iceland's hands but merely the adorable pout that was forming on his face.

"But Nore, I don't want you to leave!" the silver-haired boy wailed, his eyes glimmering with- hey wait, was that lust? But before Norway could even stop to think about it, however, Iceland said something that made him freeze in place:

"Don't you want to try that whole NorIce thing, storibróðir?"

Norway swallowed hard and opened his mouth to reply before shutting again. Alright, fine, yes, damn it, he _had_ been wanting to; it was the whole reason he'd told Iceland's most obnoxious friends about it in the first place. He'd _known _that both Hong Kong and Hungary would drive Iceland up a wall about it- and Norway was allowed to dream that maybe Iceland would feel the same as he did about the pairing, wasn't he? And maybe, in that process, let out the word _big brother, _that had been so twisted into Norway's darkest fantasies?

_What could go wrong? _A little voice in the back of his mind echoed into the front of it and the nation's common sense and inhibitions began to break away. _He is drunk, after all. He won't remember any of this, and then you can get some peace yourself. _ Yes, Norway decided. That sounded quite nice.

"Of course I do," he said at last. "But I still don't want you to get hurt, lillebror." Norway gently pulls Iceland off of him and walks towards the piles of broken glass, pushing them all into a far corner of the room before walking back to Iceland, who was now sitting on his bed, smirking. "Are you _afraid, _Nore?" he croons. His eyes are still somewhat hazy and out of focus, and this simultaneously alarms and comforts the Nordic slowly walking towards him. _He'll never know._

Every last bit of sense in Norway finally gives way and he pushes his brother onto his bed, pinning him down by his wrists and taking him by the mouth, waiting impatiently for Iceland to let him in before finally letting his tongue take control; letting his heart take place over his head.

And for the next few hours, he was just as drunk as Iceland was.


	2. Chapter 2

Iceland awoke with a splitting headache.

He groaned softly, his eyes still shut tight, turning and colliding with something soft, warm, and sweaty. _What the hell? _ He opens his eyes just a crack to see that he has collided with a chest.

And not just any chest.

_"Nore!"_ Deep blue eyes meet purple, and the nations behind both pairs of eyes come to a crashing realization.

It happened. They... Did _it. _Had sex. Iceland's jaw drops as he struggles to process this fact. Norway- his brother, his brother, his loving, kind brother- has befouled him, besmirched him, and in the worst way possible. He- they- had done the deed, and thusly broken the law of both their countries into little shards.

"Iceland." No, Iceland will not look at him. Norway took advantage of him; the few experimental sips of alcohol that Iceland had last night had surely turned into much more, considering he couldn't remember anything past that. He'd been yelling at Hungary before angrily tossing his phone at the wall and glaring at the Danish beer he'd been planning to throw out the window. Iceland had decided, albeit rather stupidly, that, _hey, just a little bit won't hurt anyone- surely Norway won't find out, _before drinking a little and either completely blacking out, which he doubted, or proceeding to become dead drunk.

And now... Now he learns that Norway had done _this _to him. Dirtied him. "Island, lillebror, listen to me." But Iceland sits up and gets out of bed, wrapping his blanket around him and walking to the bathroom, blocking Norway's voice out the best he could before shutting the door behind him. The reflection staring back at him in the mirror is littered with cuts and bruises. Iceland almost bites his swollen bottom lip before thinking better of it and instead simply choking back a small whimpering noise, closing his

"You were begging for it." Iceland startles; he has made the mistake of leaving the door unlocked. Norway leans on the doorframe, shirtless; he has apparently decided that pants were enough, and although Iceland notes the cuts that his own nails had probably left on Norway's back, he doesn't say anything. Norway sighs and looks up at him, and for the second that their eyes meet, Iceland's breath catches in his throat at the despair that is so clearly etched into the older Nordics'; he looks away, scowling back at the mirror.

"What else could I have done, Ice? You asked, so I gave it to you." Norway walks behind him and Iceland quickly looks down at the sink, turning on the cold water before sneaking a look at the clock on the wall. It was barely 5 AM, he realized, catching water in a cup with one hand and drawing his blanket tightly around his shoulders with another.

He drains the cup before placing it by the sink and going into his walk-in closet to dress, this time locking the door behind him. Iceland hears Norway lean against the door as he drops the blanket and grabs a button-up shirt and a pair of gray jeans, pulling the shirt on and finding a pair of boxers before putting those on as well. "And let me just tell you before you come out here and barge past me that it _was _your fault for getting that drunk-"

"And who are you going to blame next? Denmark? The company that brewed the beer?" Iceland had thrown the door open, snapping at last as he did so. "_You _did this, you _know _you did!" he buttons up his shirt and storms past Norway just like the older nation said he would, furious. "At the very least you should take some damn responsibility for it!" Norway stands there, stock-still, as Iceland rounds the corner and disappears down the stairs. Iceland never been this mad before, not even when Norway had made him say 'big brother' in front of all the other Nordics; that had simply been embarassment. This was bitter disappointment and anger, and it was all pointed at Norway. _Yes, all pointed at him, and let it be that way until the asshole stands up for himself. _Iceland walked into the kitchen and busied himself making toast, ignoring Norway as he walked down the stairs and sat at the dining table.

Needless to say, Iceland ate his breakfast in loud silence, flipping through a book he'd brought specifically for this purpose. He wasn't really reading it; it served more as a distraction than anything else. Norway himself simply looked down at his hands, hoping his brother would say something, _anything_ to him; even if Iceland disowned him and hated him, it wouldn't matter. He wanted closure, or at least some acknowledgement of his existence.

"Eat," Iceland said at last. His voice was stiff, but the underlying tone was that of concern; Norway would've laughed if the situation wasn't so horrible. "Of course, lillebror." Iceland flinched as if he'd been hit, scowling at his book. "Don't call me that," he growled through clenched teeth. For a few seconds, the situation seemed normal; this could've happened any other day.

"You're not my brother," Iceland continued, and Norway's hands curled into fists. "You have no right to call me that."

"It was proved-"

_"You are not my brother," _Iceland snarled, and at long last Norway fell silent. It was not smart to pursue the subject, he knew that much, and instead looked blankly down at his hands. Iceland was a volcano, save for the lava and ash; "Sorry," he muttered, going back to his coffee.

Within five minutes, however, Iceland was once again desperate to make conversation. "Where the hell did you find out about that whole NorIce thing, anyway?" he mumbled at last. Norway surveyed him over the edge of his already half-empty coffee cup. "I stumbled across it. Alright, fine, Hungary told me about it," he added quickly as Iceland's eyes narrowed. "She said you told her," he replied, slightly confused. Norway drained his cup and looked Iceland straight in the eye. "She lied," he said quietly, and for some reason Iceland's heart skipped a beat when Norway looked away.

What was wrong with him? It was only Norway, and he was only _looking _at him. For god's sake, it wasn't as if he was asking if they could fuck again! In a desperate attempt to calm himself down, Iceland looked down at the book and actually began to read it, only to realize that it was written in old Norwegian. He slammed it shut, ignoring the confused look Norway shot him before getting up and making his way to the stairs. "I'm going to go take a bath," he said shortly, and promptly ran into his bathroom, this time locking the door behind him.

Iceland stripped quickly, keeping his gaze far from the mirror; he felt he was going to throw up if he saw those scratches again. He then walked to his shower, shivering; it was the middle of winter and he was standing next to an open window with no clothes on. Iceland tuned the water on, watching as the room quickly fogged up from the sudden heat before stepping in and letting the water run over him.

Although at first trying to avoid it, Iceland let the memories of the night before come to the front of his mind. They were blurred together, as if they'd all happened really fast, although Iceland knew this was a result of the alcohol... _"How much did you drink, Ice?" _ He flinched slightly as Norway's voice echoed through his head. How much _had _he drunk, anyway? _"12!" _ Oh, god, no! Twelve? That was all of it! He couldn't have- _"You proud of me for getting rid of it, broðir?" _Ah, hell, no. There was no way Norway would be proud of him for that. _"Of course, Ice..."_

Wait, what?

Iceland sunk to the bottom of the shower, now utterly confused. Perhaps Norway was fine. Perhaps it _hadn't _been his fault. After all, it was _Iceland _who had insinuated the whole situation, and-

-And now, he had to fix it.

* * *

_Oh._

_Sorry, such a late update. *Sighs* School gets in the way of things. I promise I will try harder to be more consistent... But for now, I will bug my best friend (Jade, that means you, darling) to work on her stories. She's better than I am. _

_-Haku_


End file.
